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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28862946">a careful love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysteriousnight/pseuds/mysteriousnight'>mysteriousnight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>MASH (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s08e06 Period of Adjustment, Hopeful Ending, M/M, a touch of lesbian margaret as a treat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:42:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,488</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28862946</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysteriousnight/pseuds/mysteriousnight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After Hawkeye brings BJ back to the Swamp, Margaret takes Hawkeye to her own tent, worried how he is handling the day's events.</p><p>Set following the events of Period of Adjustment</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>"Trapper" John McIntyre/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, B. J. Hunnicutt/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan &amp; Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a careful love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is a direct result of me wanting to write something fun between best friends margaret and hawkeye, but then i sorely realized i can't write jokes, so everything ends up slightly depressing</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>This wasn't one of their normal drinking sessions together. Those were fun: drinking and laughing and reminiscing about people who weren't there any more. But this was different. Neither had smiled for ten minutes, and nothing that could have even passed as a joke had been said. Hawkeye was in thought, deep inside his mind, a permanent frown fixed on his face. Margaret was worried.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How is he?" She asked, knowing he would understand who she was referring to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had found Hawkeye sitting at BJ's bedside, the other man sleeping, not soundly, but at least asleep. Hawkeye was awake, his head turning between the sleeping body of his friend beside him, and the broken body of the still on the ground. She had entered the Swamp as quietly as she could, not wanting to wake any of its sleeping patrons and when she got to Hawkeye's side and laid a hand on his arm, he flinched, not realizing she was there until that moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Margaret had taken Hawkeye back to her tent and opened a bottle of scotch almost as soon as they entered. That was twelve minutes ago, counting each minute of silence Hawkeye had let pass. It unsettled her, how quiet he was being.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He's hurting," Hawkeye said, eyes looking at his glass. The bruise on his cheek seemed to fill his whole face from that angle. "But I think he's going to be okay."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Will you be?" Margaret refilled his glass and set her own down. She didn't know where this conversation was going to go, but she felt like she couldn't be drunk for it. Whatever this was, it was important.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hawkeye glanced at her and flipped on a cheesy grin. "Always,"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Margaret pushed his shoulder. "I mean it," she looked down, eyes traveling along the ground of her tent. "He broke the still."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He did," His voice was tense, protective. He took a drink from his glass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You built it with Trapper," Margaret was easy with her words, not knowing which would set him off. He was like a time bomb in front of her, and if she didn't get him to explode now, when she was the only one in the blast zone, then he would go off eventually, and whoever was in its blast would be hurt far worse than she would be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It was the last thing I had of his,'' There was pain in his voice, a real hurt he had never shown her before. It sounded like heartbreak, but it couldn't be: they were only talking about Trapper after all. "He's gone, and now the still is gone. God, why did I think he would last forever?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hawkeye finally looked at her, his eyes watery, red, burning with a hate that wasn’t directed at her, but she couldn't tell if the hate was for Trapper, or BJ, or if it’s just the same old hate he had for the army and the war. "Who are you mad at right now?" Margaret asked, figuring it was better to just ask and get the full picture than sit there, unsure of how he was hurting. "Is it BJ?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, I'm not mad at BJ," He laughed at that, like the very idea that he could be mad at BJ was absurd, as if BJ didn't punch him a few hours ago and destroyed the one thing left of his old friend. "I can’t be mad at him. I don't understand what he’s going through, but I understand the anger behind it. The anger at the people who got to go home."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Margaret let them sit in that for a few seconds. The humor in Hawkeye's face wasn't there anymore, now just deep seated pain and a burning anger in his eyes. "Then who are you mad at, if it's not him."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes flickered away from her for just a moment, as if he was thinking about what he could say next. "Trapper left without saying goodbye," Hawkeye's voice had a cold fury behind it, an anger a long time in the making. Margaret realized it had been there ever since Trapper had left, sitting inside Hawkeye, burning inside him until the still had broken and BJ had punched him and he could finally release this anger he had towards a man who hadn't been there for months. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He didn't leave me a note. He even didn't send me a letter when he got home. All he left me was a kiss delivered through Radar!" Hawkeye threw his empty glass away. It hit the floor hard, but did not shatter, only cracked. His hands were shaking now. Margaret just watched him, helpless to stop the furious sadness crashing out of him. "We were friends. I lo—" His voice cracked and he stopped, took a breath, thinking over how he could continue. His eyes hardened as he continued. "I loved him."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Margaret felt her stomach tighten, a sickening feeling twisting through her. Part of her mind was screaming something about army regulations at her in a voice that sounded a lot like Frank's. And still another part of her wanted to cry, to reach out to Hawkeye and confess something she didn't even understand herself. And more, still, another part just wanted to reach out and comfort him, because she understood heartbreak. She understood someone you love leaving. She understood the anger and sadness behind his words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hawkeye was looking at her like his life was in her hands, and it was, in a way, because she could see he was scared she would tell someone, tell the army to get him out of there because it was no place for a guy like him. And she needed to get that fear off his face. She could stand the anger, and the pain, and the goddamn heartbreak, but she couldn't stand the fear. "Did he love you too?" She didn't think it was enough, but she didn't know what else to say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hawkeye grimaced, the fear finally off his face. "He was married," It was all he said, and maybe it was all he needed to say, because Margaret knew what he meant, how there was always this third person that hung over you like a shadow. Someone you remember as you were kissing them and consider that maybe you are doing the damage, that you are the evil one here. And more than anything, that third person was there to remind you that you weren't first, that their love had been taken by another already.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then her mind wandered to BJ, still sleeping in his cot in a tent they could see if they opened her door. And she thought about how Hawkeye had been sitting there, how he had helped BJ back from Potter's office and into the Swamp, about how he had returned to BJ's side even when he had every reason not to. The glass of the still had not even been cleaned up, but he had returned, and he had comforted, and he had forgiven. And then Margaret blinked and steadied her eyes on Hawkeye. "BJ is married."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know," Hawkeye looked over to where his glass was still sitting on the floor, regretting having thrown it now. Margaret didn't offer him a new glass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why do you always go for the married ones?" She tried to deliver it as a joke, to add some levity to the heaviness that has settled around them, but it wasn't a joke, and Hawkeye didn't take it as one. He just looked sad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"BJ kissed me once," His voice trembled, still standing on uncertain ground, not quite knowing Margaret's reaction to things like that. She didn't know how she would react either, but she just nodded, willing him to continue. "He was drunk, doesn't even remember it. But he said that if he wasn't careful, he could fall in love with me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Margaret wanted to cry again because she understood being careful; she had been careful her whole life. Careful about how she acted around her nurses, and how she made friends with women. Careful about falling in love with men, and careful falling out of love. She had been careful from the moment she was born and the moment she looked at a woman and wanted to kiss her and from the moment she was sent to Korea and everything became a little harder for her to be careful about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then she looked at Hawkeye and for the first time she saw how reckless he was, how dangerously he loved, how the word careful never applied to his emotions and only applied to his hands. She saw how his love had backfired on him, once, twice, how many other times had he found himself loving someone he couldn't have, someone who left him, someone who just didn’t love him how he loved them? It was a tragedy, to love that carelessly. No, not carelessly, but passionately, and intensely, and unable to control who his love fell on. And maybe it was not careless, but freeing, to love so much, with his whole heart, something she could not allow herself to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Trapper went home and the war kept on going," Hawkeye said, changing the subject without preamble. Margaret let him, understanding how the subject of BJ might be a little too fresh, just like the bruise on his cheek. "He left and I didn’t even have time to be sad because the bodies kept coming and I couldn't stop working because if I did, then people would die." He tapped at his chest with each word, his fingers hitting as hard as they could, almost sounding hollow against his breastplate. "The war gets to be a memory for him."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Margaret didn't know what about this sentiment set Hawkeye off, but he was crying now, and not even attempting to stop it, the tears falling down his face without care. "I am so tired of this war, Margaret." He went on, hands clenched into firsts. Whatever threads Hawkeye had been holding on by had snapped, the bomb inside him finally going off. "I want to go home. I want you to go home. I want BJ to go home. I just want it all to stop. I want it all to be just a lousy memory."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Margaret drew him into her arms, placing a hand on the back of his head and the other clutching at his arm. His arms wrapped around her and he let himself calm down, his crying easing after a few seconds in her arms. She wanted to do more, but nothing she thought of could do any good. She couldn't stop the war. She couldn't bring Trapper back. She couldn't change the past. All she could do that was any good was hold him steady.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Trapper may be gone, but BJ isn't." She let him untangle himself and sit back across from her. He rubbed at his eyes. He looked horrible. "Forgive Trapper. Don’t forgive Trapper. It doesn't matter, Hawkeye. What matters is what you have here now."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn't speak, eyes avoiding hers. It would have been funny to see him so indirect if he hadn't been crying a minute ago. He sighed. "BJ is married."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Trapper was married." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her words echoed Hawkeye's earlier, but they meant something different now. It was not dejection in the words, but the gathering of hope. And that hope didn't slip past Hawkeye, but he took it and turned it sour once again, a frown falling over his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Trapper left."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"BJ is still here." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn't know what she meant by this, what she was encouraging, but it felt right. He needed to see that what he still had here was enough, and the past was not destined to repeat itself, that he did not need to lay in agony waiting for the next person to leave him without even a goodbye, waiting for the day when everyone was gone and he was left alone, the war his sole companion. BJ was still there, and that counted for something, maybe everything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What are you saying, Margaret?" A smile wormed its way onto Hawkeye's face, asking the one question she didn't have the answer for, like he knew she didn't know and wanted to taunt her. His eyes still swam with sadness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm saying—" She started, hoping she could find the ending to the sentence when she got there. She sighed and gave him a dejected shrug. "I'm just saying BJ is still here."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She couldn't say anything else, couldn't even imagine her forming the words to imply a relationship, to infer love between them. She wasn't ready to say something like that so openly, even if just to Hawkeye. She had been taught her whole life that it was wrong, reportable, an offense of the greatest degree, to see two men in love. She didn't think that anymore, but she wasn't brave enough to admit it, to speak it out loud, to defy all that she was taught, all that she had known was right and wrong. But she trusted Hawkeye to understand, felt it in her gut that he would understand, even if she couldn't say what she meant. And from the way his face had softened, the sadness lifting out of his eyes, maybe he understood perfectly well what she meant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thank you," Hawkeye got to his feet before a silence could settle between them. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm going to sleep. I have to be in post-op in three hours."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Margaret let him leave without another word, the door shutting with a slap behind him. Her room felt colder with the absence of another, but it was fine, she was used to the cold. She just pulled her robe tighter around herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a few seconds, she stood and walked to her door and opened it, just enough so she had a clear view into the Swamp. The light above Hawkeye's cot was on, washing the tent in a mellow glow of yellow, shadows taking over more than the light. A figure walked across the tent, moving from the light into the shadows of the other side. It stopped in the muted grey of the shadows, the form barely visible, hovering over the darkness where a cot, accompanied by a sleeping man, sat on the ground. And then the figure went back towards the light and switched it off,  shadows consuming the tent once again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Margaret closed her door quietly and sank into her bed. She didn't know how tomorrow would go, or how the week would end, but she felt comfortable enough to sleep, something she hadn't felt in a long time. It was as if an itching of her soul had ceased with her conversation with Hawkeye, and she could finally relax into herself.</span>
</p><p> </p>
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